


Role Call

by saijanbulma



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Married peoples' idea of kinky sex, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 21:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saijanbulma/pseuds/saijanbulma
Summary: After a tense couple of days and some very uncomfortable conversations Vegeta finally finds himself the recipient of the text message he's been dreading. He's scared, uncertain and has no experience doing what she says she wants of him ...but he's no coward.Sequel to How to Manage a Trois, formerly an exclusive piece for my supporters over on [REDACTED]. Totally unrelated, here's my Twitter: https://twitter.com/BulmaSaijan
Relationships: Bulma Briefs & Vegeta, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 18
Kudos: 118





	Role Call

The control panel lit up, indicating that his phone, stored safely in the gravity-proof lock box but connected via bluetooth, was receiving communications. He should have ignored it, she knew he was training after all, but he couldn’t. His movements were getting sloppy and his form was all over the place. He sighed heavily.

“Gravity off!” he ordered, and Bulma’s machines whined as they slowly lowered the pressure. He landed grumpily and padded over to the control panel, tapping a few buttons. Bulma’s message appeared on the capacitive touchscreen and he frowned.

_ Have you had enough time yet? _

He grit his teeth and scrolled back up, glancing over the longer messages she’d sent him earlier that day. They were adequately descriptive, and his discomfort was even stronger now than when he’d first read them. His eyes kept skimming past them in embarrassment. He read back his last reply to her.

_ I need to think about it. _

Two hours ago. He had to admit that, for her at least, she’d shown remarkable patience. She’d made him agree to respond to her, and he intended to, but what was he meant to say? The other night’s discussion had been the longest sustained communication between them since the day she’d convinced him to marry her, and it had been  _ hard. _ He wasn’t emotionally equipped for this. At least for once he knew his own mind: her idea didn’t appeal to him but he was too afraid of disappointing her to give a flat out refusal. He tapped his fingers on the console.

_ Maybe. I’m not sure. _

He grimaced, wondering if he could have made a more pointless and uninformative communication than that. Her reply pinged back suspiciously quickly.

_ Tell you what: say no more about it, just come to dinner and whatever as usual. Don’t come to our room until I tell you I’m ready. I’ll leave you a note with instructions on how to continue or bail, your choice, no pressure. We’ll take it slow. _

He swallowed hard. No pressure? Yeah right. Still, he considered, it was possibly the best case scenario for this debacle. She really had listened, perhaps a little too well. He was beginning to wish that he hadn’t demanded to be so involved in her decision making process, but now she had considerately found the middle ground. He felt a qualm of shame that he was again forcing her to solo-navigate the labyrinth of his emotional defects, and with it a sense of inadequacy at his inability to articulate his feelings despite her open acceptance of him; what did he have to fear? Nothing, there was nothing to fear, she had outlined that so very clearly, but still he feared a nebulous unknown outcome as punishment for any attempt at openness. It was stupid, he was being foolish, and despite knowing that he would still continue to be so. He pushed down the feelings.

_ Fine. I can do that. _

He waited a moment for her inevitable reply, one of those damned little pictures of a thumbs up, and with firm determination to get his shit together he switched the gravity back on.

* * *

He stepped lightly but slowly on the stairs, his pace measured and reluctant. Training, dinner and the business of snarling at Trunks until he went to bed were all over and done with, and he had spent the remainder of the evening in the kitchen with Mrs Briefs, nursing a hot chocolate. She had chattered, and he had done his duty in silently nodding at appropriate intervals while the good woman found excuses to keep him company. He wondered how many Capsule Corp. employees would be accosted by her in the morning and made to accept one of the many pastries she’d baked that evening.

He didn’t mind her, not anymore anyway. There was something soothing about her solicitude for his well-being, even when she fussed around him and invaded his personal space. He didn’t enjoy it per se, and he was unaccustomed to motherly attention generally, but he still found he’d prefer to have it than not. On this occasion her unaccountably affectionate behaviour had the net positive effect of keeping him suitably distracted until he received his marching orders, but he couldn’t avoid this new trial any longer.

The walk up the stairs and to their room was far too short. Before he’d even managed to get his twisting stomach under control he was already at his own bedroom door, turning the handle, stepping over the threshold. He was holding his breath in nervous anticipation.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but a curtain certainly surprised him. The small corridor that led past the en suite to the main part of the room was partitioned by a heavy curtain, hanging from a rail that she must have installed herself that day, and with a paper note pinned to it. He glanced into the bathroom suspiciously, but that room was untouched. Out of excuses to procrastinate, he ripped the note from its pin and held it up to the bathroom light. He read it in silence, his face impassive.

_ So first of all, well done for getting this far without freaking out. I’m very proud of you. You’ve noticed by now that I’ve made a few adjustments to our room - all temporary, don’t worry. This is called ‘setting the scene’, which will help us get into character. I’m really hoping that you’ll give this a go, but I understand if you want to stop now. The ‘play’ part of ‘role play’ is the most important word; this is meant to be fun, so if at  _ _ any point  _ _ you feel like you want to stop, then you stop, regardless of how far we’ve already gotten.  _

_ I have crafted a scenario for us to play out together on the reverse side of this note, but it’s open to your personal interpretation. I want you to feel comfortable, which is why I’ve set things up this way. Read my proposal, and if you think you can hack it then open the curtain. If the prospect is just too much and you want out of this situation as painlessly as possible then go into the bathroom and lock the door (make sure you bang the door so I hear it!) I’ll knock twice to tell you it’s safe to come out and we’ll never speak of this again. _

_ I love you,  _

_ Your Bulma _

He stood there for several seconds, staring at the note. On the surface he seemed still but inside he was most definitely in turmoil. There was so much consideration in her words, so much solicitude for his comfort, that he felt guilty for needing it. He flipped the note and quickly read her scenario.

He didn’t think he wanted to do this. He was afraid. He was embarrassed. This was completely new to him, and wasn’t the result of organic interaction in the bedroom but premeditated deviance. He ought to just walk out and be done with it.

_ Yes, _ he thought bitterly,  _ run away like the selfish coward you are. _

He put the note down on the bathroom counter and gripped the curtain purposefully. There was nothing in that room but his wife, and no matter what trappings she’d decided to adorn herself with she was still the same woman. His fear was laughable, and of his own creation, and he was ashamed of it. With grit teeth, he pulled aside the curtain and stepped into the main room.

* * *

The room was lit by candles, that much he’d expected from past experience, and their fragrances filled the space with exotic perfume, not overpowering but subtle and enticing. He inhaled deeply in spite of himself, trying to identify the components. Their bed was hung, as her note had promised, with brand new curtains and the wall to wall windows were shuttered, blocking out the world and everything that came with it. The room had been entirely redecorated with gilded frames and classical furniture to give the impression of some fantastical castle or other such environment. How she had managed to rig all of this up in one afternoon baffled him.

He didn’t immediately approach the bed, but instead took a turn around the room, taking in the new decorations and admiring her taste; even when she was trying to be decadent she was still a class act. A set of men’s clothes hung from the back of an ornate wooden chair. He bit his lip, and after a short deliberation he undressed.

The clothes she had laid out for him were simple but good quality; a loose fitting white silk shirt, with blousy sleeves and a low V at the neck, tucked into high-waisted black trousers and a waistcoat that he, considering the situation, didn’t bother to button up. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that was now standing in the corner of the room and was slightly annoyed to realise that he looked like an off-duty cartoon prince. There was movement from the bed, Bulma adjusting her position slightly. He approached with caution, reciting Bulma’s note in his head.

_ ...After a long battle I, the enemy general, surrendered in exchange for you not slaughtering the remainder of my army, and you’re now determined to seduce me and make me yours… _

He put a finger in the curtain slit and started to move the fabric, not realising he was holding his breath.

_ ...At first I’ll be resistant, but after a little while I’ll succumb helplessly to your charms… _

_ I don’t have any charms though, _ he thought sourly.  _ But I’ll be damned if I let something as ridiculous as this get the better of me. _

With determination he whipped the curtain aside, shoulders back and chin held high, as haughty as he could be. He’d not forgotten how to be imperious and he was glad he’d decided to lead with that so that his silence could be passed off as arrogance, because the sight of her struck him dumb with awe.

She was resplendent. Every little detail about her attire was individually decadent and sumptuous, her make-up, insofar as he understood the art, was ‘on point’, her bodice thin and form hugging, lifting and cinching where appropriate, and she had adorned her short, wavy bob with small jewels that glittered in the light. The bodice had a short, lacey skirt attached that flattered her pale legs, which were bent underneath her. As for her torso, her arms were held above her head, wrists tied by a silken rope that attached to the curtain rails and hung down. Her raised arms meant that with every breath her ample bosom was threatening to break its boundaries.

Her neck was bare, and her eyes were angry.

“Prince Vegeta,” she snarled convincingly. His breath returned, and he found it was a struggle to keep his composure.

“General Bulma,” he returned, pretending to survey her appraisingly. “I trust you are well?”

“You won’t break me.”

_ It’s not about getting inside me, it’s about convincing me that’s what  _ I  _ want. _

He paused a moment, at once unnerved and yet emboldened that he’d managed to enter this game successfully. A smirk spread across his mouth.

“I had no intentions of the kind, madam,” he assured her, leaning on one of the new bedposts. “You are my guest after all.”

“Your guest?” Bulma spat viciously. “What sort of guest is trussed up like this?”

“Only the luckiest, I assure you.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“Indeed!” Vegeta laughed, affecting a haughty chuckle. “I don’t deny it. But you will be my crowning glory.”

He waited to see if he’d said the right thing, outwardly confident but in himself writhing with discomfort. That said, in spite of his lack of confidence, he was beginning to enjoy to some degree the odd power play between them.

“I will  _ never _ submit to you,” she asserted firmly.

“I assure you, general, that before this night is over, you’ll be beyond submission,” he put his knee on the bed, and was not ignorant of how she shuddered, “you’ll be  _ begging _ me to take you.”

She glared at him, and he smirked back, and something changed. It was like a valve had been turned, forcing the flow of his discomfort to reverse and relieve the pressure he’d been suffocating under. He wasn’t just  _ able _ to do this, he was  _ good  _ at it. Every word and tiny action was reaping dividends in arousal from her, and after so many years of marriage he knew the signs. Besides which, he could smell her. The only difficulty here for either of them was how they had to pretend that her panties weren’t already wet.

“You’re delusional,” she countered, but this time he could see the smile tugging at the corner of her perfectly painted lips as she fought to hide how much she was enjoying this game. He prayed her lipstick was the smudge proof kind.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, settling down on the edge of the bed. He made a show of looking her up and down languidly, amused by her synthesised show of offence. “And as much this situation is tactically in my favour, I would like to assure you that I have absolutely no intention of doing you harm.”

“If only I could say the same for my armies.”

“You fought well, and your surrender was most honourable. Many soldiers will return to their families tomorrow thanks to your sacrifice.”

“The power to release them was yours; you didn’t require my captivity for that.”

He licked his lips slightly, quickly recalling the considerable backstory that Bulma had written for this. Her legs were invitingly close to his hand.

“Mercy without collateral? Now madam, you know me better than that. What chance is there of a retaliation from your loyal commanders when I have their beloved General under my close gaze?” he ran a single finger softly down her exposed leg, raising an eyebrow at her very genuine intake of breath. “We’ve known each other for some time, haven’t we? We danced together at court.”

She said nothing, but he saw her swallow as her eyes followed his fingers as they idly sketched a pattern on the pale skin of her thighs. He could deny the infuriating truth no longer; he was actually  _ enjoying himself. _

“Even then I knew this day would come,” he told her, leaning forward, adding with a glance towards her restraints: “well, maybe I didn’t imagine it  _ exactly _ this way. Before this silly war broke out you never gave me any reason to suspect you’d deny me.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Then tell me,” he leaned even closer, abandoning her leg and placing his hand on the bed between her knees, bracing his weight against it as he put his lips near her ear, “why does your heart beat so fast when I’m near you?”

“Because you’re my enemy,” she hissed.

“And yet, when I took your hand at our last amicable meeting, you shook like this,” he raised himself up on his knees and ran a finger lightly from her wrists down to her shoulder. As he spoke, his soft breath was on her neck, making her shudder involuntarily, “and you breathed fast like this, and your cheeks were red like this.”

“So what?” she snapped, not really trying to keep her breathing under control. Her acting skills notwithstanding, her arousal was so clearly telegraphed for him that he wondered if he’d already spoiled the game.

“So, I think I’m doing you a favour,” he whispered as his fingertips explored lower, lightly tracing the outline of her breast. “You’ve wanted me since the first time we met, but your pride would never let you admit it. I’m giving you freedom from yourself; no-one will know but the two of us if I give you what you want.”

“Freedom you call it?” she gasped, pulling on her restraints illustratively. He wondered momentarily how she’d managed to tie herself thusly in the first place, but pushed the thought to one side. Instead he let his hand drift lower to rest on her waist and brushed his smirking lips against the skin of her neck. Her arm ought to have blocked his access but she adjusted her angle to accommodate him. Clearly she was not going to allow her commitment to her role get in the way of actual pleasure.

Her breathing was hard and fast now, and she shivered delightfully as he very lightly mouthed her neck. There was something about the setting that gave even the lightest touch so much more efficacy than he was used to, making him feel like his own senses were heightened. Bulma was always receptive to his touch - yet another thing he found endlessly captivating about her - but now her physiological response was as acute as it was when they first began to come together. It was like those first nights, when finding solace from their loneliness in each other’s bodies, they would wrestle for dominance in her bed, touching and kissing and demanding and teaching, when the mere scent of her hitting him as he left the GR would force him to take a cold shower. He was already growing uncomfortably hard just thinking about it.

She moaned, just a little and perhaps not on purpose, but it brought him back to the present. He let his fingers travel just a little further up her thigh. When he pulled them back they were damp.

“Madam General,” he chuckled softly, “if you are still in denial about your feelings for me then I must invite you to look between your own legs.”

Her thighs clenched as she fought her desire to push her hips against his hand, and they both had to hide their smiles. As uncomfortable as he initially was at her desire to play this ‘resistance’ role, her consistent small assurances and breaking of character helped keep him grounded. His worry had been that he would be unable to discern what was fantasy and what was reality, and thus find himself fleeing the situation in self-revulsion, but Bulma was too good for that; she had all but winked at him.

“I should like a taste, I think,” he mused, “with your consent of course.”

“You haven’t needed my consent up to now,” she growled unsteadily.

“Yes, I’ve behaved very badly this evening,” he admitted, returning to stroke her inner thigh, “but there are certain lines even a scoundrel like me will not cross.”

“I refuse.”

Now it was his turn to play at resistance. He wasn’t completely certain that they had the exact same process in mind, and he refused to go any further than he already had without some kind of consent, not even as a simulation. It didn’t matter how full his head was of the scent of her arousal, nor how she panted, nor even how those full lashed eyes demanded his body under their heavy lids; the very thought of forcing himself on her - even in pretence - made him recoil internally. Never, and under no circumstances, would  _ he _ consent to that.

“Well then,” he sighed, pulling back from her. “Might I at least be granted a kiss?”

She wasn’t stupid; everything she’d done so far had been done with consideration for him as her guiding principal, and she was as aware of his feelings now as she had been at the start. She feigned a haughty sneer.

“Will it shut you up?”

“At least for a little while.”

“Fine, if for that reason only, but don’t expect me to kiss you back.”

“As you wish, madam.”

He grabbed her and lifted her bodily, thrusting his knee between her legs and pulling her on top of his leg, then in one fluid motion wrapped one arm around her back to support her while pulling her face towards his with the other. He paused at her lips, and instead of capturing them with his own he instead kissed her jaw, near the hollow beneath her ear. She gasped sharply in delighted surprise.

“I never specified where,” he shrugged, nibbling her ear impishly.

“You promised to stop talking,” she accused him.

“Well madam, if that is your wish I am more than happy to oblige you.”

He kissed her neck, doing his best to pretend that he didn’t already know how she liked it. He varied his touch, sometimes light and airy, sometimes hard, almost biting her, all the while listening to her heavy breathing - panting, really - in his ear. His hands were not idle in this time, circling her waist and stroking her skin, noting how the fine hairs stood up and the skin pimpled in excitement. Her groin was hot on his thigh, and he could feel wetness seeping through the fabric to his skin. He lifted his bent leg slightly, pushing up between her legs. Her eyes were lidded as she breathed through the small pleasure, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. He grabbed her thighs and lifted her again so that she was entirely on his lap, and pressed his hardened erection up against her crotch.

The effect was as he’d wished, and she arched her back against him and let out a little moan. She seemed to think it appropriate for her character to look away in embarrassment, but he could see her little smile.

“Did you like that?” he whispered into her ear, stroking her collarbone with his fingertips.

She nodded hesitantly, just a tiny little bit.

“Do you want me to do it again?” he asked, lifting his hips slightly in preparation.

Her response took longer this time, but she eventually nodded.

“Alright,” he agreed, “but you have to give me something first.”

She looked at him in genuine surprise, her intense blue eyes wide and sparkling.

“What on Earth can I possibly give you?”

“I want…” he paused and leaned back just enough to run his hungry eyes over her perfect body, before smirking and lifting his dark orbs to meet her level stare, “...this.”

His wandering fingers had stopped their exploration and settled on her breast, his palm covering the pale, lightly clothed flesh with a featherlight touch. He could feel her chest rising and falling as each breath filled his hand.

“I don’t understand.”

“If you want more of this,” he said, lifting his pelvis and putting pressure on her swollen womanhood then immediately taking it away, “then you must give me permission to enjoy these.”

She tried to press her hips against his erection regardless, but he immediately clasped her thighs and prevented her movement.

“No cheating,” he hissed against her neck. “My terms were clear. Do you consent, General Briefs?”

With a small whine of lust she nodded, closing her eyes in mock defeat. He grinned darkly and with one swift movement broke the strap of her garment’s halterneck, enjoying how the fabric fluttered away to release her heavy breasts, pink nipples already puckered.

“That was  _ bespoke _ Vegeta-!” she began to scold him hotly, but he cut her off.

“And how would you know that, Madam General?”

“I ...well I assumed-” she blushed, biting her lip in a rare moment of flustered embarrassment. She was adorable.

“You shouldn’t assume,” he advised, lowering his face to nuzzle one pink nipple, “now, kindly accept your payment.”

He put one strong hand on her buttocks, the other cupping a breast, and pushed her hips against his. His pelvis rose and fell as he found the best angle to grind against her, seeking her heat with his own. It wasn’t long before he located, as best as he could through three layers of thin fabric, her most sensitive area, and took to working it. Her breasts he was happily playing with, one thumb playing with a nipple while the other he took in his mouth and sucked gently. He kept reminding himself that he wasn’t supposed to know all of her most reactive spots, and tried to focus on pursuing his own entertainment, but he couldn’t stop himself from occasionally sucking and kissing in just that particular way he knew made her shiver.

Bulma for her part was rocking her hips greedily against his crotch, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore his own needs as her movements stimulated him. She was gasping and throwing her head back, pulling on her restraints to grant herself some purchase. By the gods he wanted her, but he’d come this far, he wasn’t going to break character now.

“You,” he growled against her breast, his own breathing becoming laboured, “are a shameless woman.”

“And you’re a despot, a tyrant-”

He caught her mouth with his suddenly, even going so far as to plunge his tongue into her mouth in a rough kiss that he hadn’t employed with her since their early days of intimacy. To his surprise she responded with force, even biting his lip hard as he pulled away from her. He tasted blood. They glared at each other for a few seconds, their bodies still.

“I should make you pay for that,” he said, running his tongue over the skin she’d punctured. 

“What more could you possibly want?” she sneered, licking her lips.

He cursed her inwardly. She knew  _ exactly _ how her tiny acts of violence affected him and she was playing dirty. It had been a momentous effort to keep his self-restraint when she did that, and had he not begun to think of this game as semi-competitive then she would be on her back by now learning just how to serve her prince.

But then she’d have won. The rules were nebulous and he hadn’t worked them all out yet but he was convinced that if he stepped out of his role or contradicted himself in any way he would lose this game, and she would be the victor. He composed himself.

“You ought to address me properly,” he advised, “my title is ‘your highness’.”

“Your title is dirt.”

She was still straddling him, and still surreptitiously trying to rub herself against him. He released her breast and put both hands on her ass, pulling her up against his bulging cock, giving her as much friction as she desired, and she squirmed with need.

“You’re beginning to annoy me,” he growled.

“I beg your pardon, ‘your highness’,” she almost spat. “I’ll endeavour to ignore the fact that I am your captive.”

“I prefer the term ‘guest’.”

“And I prefer to sleep in my own bed.”

“You won’t be sleeping tonight,” he assured her, and before she could object again he crushed her mouth against his. Their kiss was hot, lustful and decidedly messy, with Bulma tugging on her restraints in a frustrated attempt to grab his hair the way she liked to. This he noticed.

“Do you want your hands back?” he asked throatily, letting his teeth graze her jawline as they broke for air. She nodded frantically, her lips swollen from kissing. He was pleased to note that her lipstick hadn’t budged. “You’ll have to earn them.”

“How?” she demanded suspiciously. He pushed her off of his lap and slid off the bed, standing to his full height before her.

“It’s getting warm in here,” he stated, pulling off his shirt and discarding it. The candlelight cast soft lines over his firmly muscled torso and she drank in the sight of him thirstily. He smirked and undid the fastener of his trousers, freeing himself. He didn’t remove the trousers, but again knelt on the bed, back straight with his manhood fully exposed to her. “If you want your hands then my price is before you.”

“You want me to…?” she questioned, looking from his familiarly thick cock to his confidently smirking face and back again. “You need to untie me then.”

“I don’t think so,” he reasoned, bringing both legs onto the bed and kneeling up before her. He lifted her chin in one hand. “You know what I want.”

“I do this and you’ll untie me?”

“If that’s what you wish.”

“What then?”

“That will be up to you.”

She frowned, biting her lip again as she eyed up the job before her. Closing her eyes with a furrowed brow, she parted her lips; he pulled her chin forward gently and slipped between them.

The relief was immense; his erection had become so solid it was almost painful, and the warmth of her lips was a welcome balm. He groaned in spite of himself and pushed further into her mouth, but pulled back when he observed signs of discomfort. He breathed deeply and deliberately, reminding himself that this was an act she usually performed with at least one hand to assist her. She only had a big mouth in the figurative sense.

She took a few seconds to orient herself and then, with a glance up to see if he was watching, she slid her lips up and down the whole of him once, sucking gently as she reached the tip. He’d released a gasping sort of sigh as her tongue travelled the full length of his painfully throbbing penis, and he was having to fight the urge to grab her by the back of the head and bury himself in her mouth.

“If you push you’ll suffocate me,” she informed him matter-of-factly, “so keep your hands to yourself.”

He growled, but complied, and reached out to rest one hand on the bedpost, the other he put behind his back.

“Good.”

She closed her eyes and again took him in her mouth, this time sucking the whole length. She bobbed her head back and forth, pressing her tongue up against his sensitive flesh as she managed to take him further and further into her mouth. Realistically she was only able to fully service about half of his length, but that was enough at this moment in time to have him panting, trying to stifle his groans, his stomach muscles tensing with the pleasure she was affording him as he forced himself not to thrust into her throat.

For his part he was equal parts inflamed and frustrated. Her lips, her mouth, her rhythm and pressure, they were all familiar and intense, but he knew he could have better, and so easily. He grabbed her restraints with his spare hand. If he released her now it would show a lack of self-control on his part and she would win this round. He hesitated.

At some point she had managed to maneuver herself until his knee was between her legs. She gently rubbed her groin against him, moaning softly around his penis.

_ That’s not fair, _ he thought darkly, grasping her silk restraints with both hands and tearing them loose. She didn’t complain at the destruction this time.

“Now-!” he grunted, pushing her head against himself with one hand. She gladly obliged and gripped him with both hands, and he had to grasp the bedpost again to steady himself.

“Ah-hah!” he moaned, his hips now moving without his permission to the rhythm Bulma was setting. She removed one hand and grabbed his trousers, pulling them lower so that she could reach underneath. It was all he could do not to yell out as she serviced him as thoroughly as only she knew how. All thoughts of the game had flown from his mind; there was only her, the heat of her mouth, and his aching, throbbing need for completion.

He could feel it, on the periphery, building like a tsunami on the horizon. There was no way he’d last with Bulma working him so relentlessly, and try as he might he couldn’t hold it much longer. Almost before he knew it he was losing control, and with it all sense of decorum. He buried his fingers in her hair and squeezed his eyes shut as his body took over and he shuddered through a much needed orgasm. She began to pull away, but he held her there, leaning back so that he could observe her with heavily lidded eyes.

“No,” he said shakily, “you’re not finished.”

As expected she glared at him, at least partially genuinely, but he persisted and, with a vexed snort, she swallowed.

“Good girl,” he sighed, releasing her.

“Call me that again and next time I’ll bite it off,” she growled, wiping her mouth with her half severed wrist restraints.

“Worth it to guarantee a ‘next time’.”

“You won’t be saying that when you’re bleeding out on the- oh!”

He didn’t let her finish, but instead picked her up bodily and slammed her back onto the bed, his smirk completely gone and replaced by an intensely serious glare as he lay on top of her. She was shocked into silence, while Vegeta, his breath still laboured, ran his fingers roughly up the front of her bodice, frowning.

“It laces at the back,” she ventured a little nervously.

She’d sealed the bodice’s fate; he hooked his fingers into the beautifully embroidered front panel and tore it in half as she squeaked her objection. Hours and days of artisanal labour lay in tatters around her as nothing now remained on her body but a pair of stockings, the silk tie hanging from one wrist and her panties. His chest was heaving, so close to hers. He spread her legs wide and settled between them.

“You ass-” she began to berate him but he was having none of it. Instead, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss so aggressive she was left breathless. Her hands, now unbound, found their way to his neck and shoulders.

“No,” he snapped into her mouth and snatched her hands away, holding them against the bed above her head by her wrists. He kissed her again, almost as aggressively, as she lay helpless but willing beneath his warm body. She rubbed her aching groin against him, making him flinch as she touched his receding erection.

“You want yours now?” he asked her, his voice like heavy silk. He was getting his breath back, and with it his composure. She arched her back and pressed herself against him more firmly. 

“Fine, I think you’ve earned it,” he shrugged, releasing her wrists and angling himself up so that he could survey her. He toyed with the frayed ends of the destroyed bodice, lifting the ragged strips of the skirt. “What handsome wrapping,” he murmured, “it’s hard to believe that the gift it contained could be even more beautiful.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Madam General,” he purred, laying on his side. His fingers were stroking her belly, so very close to the edge of her underpants, “we both know that the Prince of all Saiyans doesn’t put on his best silk shirt and have a hazardous number of candles lit for just any woman.”

“I didn’t ask you to flatter me, Saiyan,” she tried to snarl but her eyes glittered warmly.

“Don’t worry, that was free,” he chuckled darkly, his fingers slipping under the hem; they were made of soft, heavy cotton lace, he noted, fastened with ties either side. He slid his middle finger further forward, dipping into the crevice, revelling in her gasp.

“Is this what you want?” he whispered into her ear. She bit her lip, nodding sharply. “Tell me,” he ordered.

She breathed deeply but she didn’t reply.

“Tell me,” he commanded again, his finger lightly brushing up against her clitoris. She moaned.

“I want it,” she admitted, not looking at him.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

His hand slid further between her legs and, borrowing moisture from between her saturated folds, he brought his fingertips back and began to massage the little nub. That tiny bundle of tissue and nerves had been his firm friend ever since they were first introduced, and it was not letting him down now. His mouth found her neck, biting and kissing as he leisurely stroked her womanhood.

“V-Vegeta-!” she whined, lifting her pelvis into his hand.

“No,” he said, cupping her with his hand and pushing her back down onto the bed. “You’ll come when I say so.”

Her frustration was deliciously clear; blood had been diverted to her genitals since the beginning of this encounter, but unlike him she’d yet to experience anything close to relief. In fact, Vegeta had made every effort to tantalise without satisfying her throughout the experience, and now was no exception. He rubbed her sometimes hard, sometimes fast but never both at the same time; if he increased his pressure it was at the expense of pace, and vice versa. The result was a very pent-up malcontent.

“I could release you,” he growled into her ear, taking a breath from her neck and collarbone. He punctuated his words by letting his fingers administer for just a few seconds the exact touch she desired. “It would be so easy.”

“Then - why - don’t you?” she hissed.

“It’s too much fun seeing you so helpless,” he laughed. “Besides, could you live with yourself if you gave up to me so easily?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He took a moment before answering, carefully untying one side of her panties and slowly revealing her.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, biting her earlobe gently, pulling with his teeth, “if I’m honest I can’t decide if I want to fuck you or eat you.”

“Figuratively?”

“...No.”

“It doesn’t say much for your upbringing,” she panted, trying again to press herself more firmly against his teasing hand, with little success, “did no-one ever tell you not to play with your food?”

“No-one ever tells me what to do,” he informed her, his voice a low growl.

She shuddered as he uncurled another finger, circling her clitoris with two fingertips and doubling the sensory input. Her arousal was almost uncomfortable now, and she bit her lip with the effort it took to keep up the charade.

“How long are you going to keep this up?”

“Until I grow bored,” he shrugged, nuzzling her neck again.

“Well,” she smirked, seeing her chance, “at least then we’ll be equal.”

“Excuse me?” he snapped, pulling his mouth away.

“Do you think you’re that good?” she asked, putting her hands behind her head and feigning disinterest.

“I  _ know _ I’m that good, you-”

“I think the reason you won’t let me come is because you can’t do it,” she pressed, her sham aided by his hand distractedly trailing off as she poked his temper. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

“You trashy little-”

“Is that how you talk to ladies? Again, your poor breeding is showing,  _ your highness. _ ”

“That’s it you harlot,” he growled, whipping his hand away and rising up to loom over her. “I’ve had enough of your mouth. I’d fill it just to keep you quiet but I don’t want to put myself into something so vulgar.”

“Is your little guy still tired, huh?” she ventured, watching him carefully lest she push too far.

“That’s it,” he glared, getting onto his knees and grabbing her panties in both hands. “I was going to spare these, but you’ve gone too far.”

She squeezed her eyes shut so that she didn’t have to witness the destruction of the gorgeous, hand woven lace that she’d specifically commissioned for this. The soft sound of rich cotton tearing was bad enough on its own. She looked in time to see him ball them up and toss them to the floor.

“I don’t know why you’d think I’d be upset at you destroying your own property,” she smirked, barely able to contain her mirth when he froze in chagrin. “Is there something I don’t know?”

“More than anyone could possibly teach you,” he rallied, blushing angrily, “but tonight at least I intend to give you a layman’s understanding of your place in the world. Move up.”

“Excuse me?”

He grabbed her by the buttocks, lifting her and moving her up the bed to give him room. Then, without ceremony, he pulled her legs wide and hoisted them over his shoulders.

“You belong to me now,” he growled, his mouth so close that she could feel his breath between her legs. “I will teach you not to forget that.”

Her mouth was open to retort but instead only issued a deep moan as he pressed his lips, mouth and tongue against her aching clitoris. The warmth had begun to recede as they’d verbally sparred but now her blood was rushing back hotly as he sucked and kissed her, coming in hard. She called out wordlessly, and he grabbed her with his hands to hold down her thrusting hips. He was pushing her, closer and closer, and she felt the edge approaching with shuddering anticipation. She closed her eyes shut and clutched the sheets.

Her expectation was premature, she realised, as he released her from his grip and sat up again, leaving her once again just short of her orgasm.

“You absolute dick-” she panted with genuine frustration, but stopped when she saw that he was pulling off his trousers to reveal that he was as hard as a rock.

“I want you,” he said simply.

“You’ve made it very clear that you have me, whether I like it or not,” she pouted, hips twitching uncomfortably as her blood pulsed through her swollen womanhood.

“I want more than just your body,” he murmured, his eyes boring into her intensely. He leaned forwards and let the shaft of his cock press against her. “I want you, all of you.”

“W-what do I get in return?” she asked shakily.

He slowly slid the full length of his cock along her pussy, letting the glans rub against her clitoris before sliding it all the way back up again. He caught his breath as she rubbed herself against him, her eyes half shut in the sheer decadent pleasure of it.

“Me,” he offered, teasing her again with his cock. He went lower this time, letting the head of his penis gently push against her opening. “However you want me, for as long as you want me.”

“I thought you wanted me to beg?” she tried to sneer, but it came out as a pant.

He grabbed her legs and pulled her roughly against him, making them both take a sharp breath at the closeness.

“I can walk away from this at any time,” he warned, though the hand that ran up her chest to fondle a breast seemed to contradict that. “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“And if I refuse?”

He swallowed hard, and with some force of will he pulled his hips away from her wet warmth, putting air between them.

“No, wait,” she whined, genuinely bereft, grabbing his hand to try to bring him back, “I’ll do it, I’ll say it.”

“Mean it.”

They glared at each other for a few moments.

“I want-”

“No,” he interrupted, “use my title.”

“Prince Vegeta,” she said huskily, hiding her amusement, “I want you to be mine, and I will be yours. I offer myself to you in terms of equal exchange.”

He shut his eyes, leaning forwards to press his forehead against hers.

“Now,” she whispered unsteadily, “will you  _ please fuck me? _ ”

With a strangled moan he unfettered himself and abandoned his usually gentle method in favour of plunging himself deep inside of her. She was so slick, there was barely any resistance; she'd been ready for him for most of the evening. They gasped as he pushed in all the up to the hilt.

"Y-yes!" she groaned, wrapping her legs around him to prevent him leaving her again. Her nails were already pressing into his back. 

He began to move, and it was ecstacy. His hips lifting, pelvis tilting, slamming back home, then a pause, a repeat, and his low groan in her ear as he began to lose control of the situation. His body took to moving of its own volition, one hand on her waist to push her harder against him, the other clasping her hand in a passionate grip. He'd given up all pretence at this point and was kissing her ardently, exactly the way she liked him to. Her free hand scratched a pattern of red lines into his back for every thrust that thrilled her, almost breaking the skin in places, and she pushed her hips up to meet him push for push. Vegeta for his part was inarticulate, panting, totally lost in her. This woman, this incredible, intelligent, kind and beautiful woman wanted him as passionately as he could ever hope, and her desire for him was driving him insane. He could feel himself near the edge of a chasm. 

"Are y-you-?" he tried to ask, a gargantuan effort under the circumstances. Bulma shook her head, years of marriage having given her preternatural understanding of her husband's legendarily poor communications. He grunted with effort, and pulled out of her. 

"Hey wha- oof!" she objected, but was derailed as he grabbed her bodily and turned her onto her front, raising her hips off of the bed to leave access for his hand. She pushed herself up on her elbows as he leaned down over her back, and hungrily reentered her, pulling back before pounding into her viciously. One hand was planted on her waist to keep them both steady as he worked up a rhythm, and the other found its way swiftly to her throbbing clitoris. Her moist folds were already parted by his thickness, and with his access unhampered his fingers worked the little spot, moving so fast they were almost a blur. Bulma almost screamed at the intensity of the sensations, his thick cock slamming deep inside of her, hitting that target that she could feel vibrate through her entire body, while his fingers performed a toe-curling dance of pleasure that left her moaning so loudly she was embarrassed for herself. She was building, she could feel it. Vegeta bit her hard on the shoulder. 

She actually screamed his name as she came; she couldn't remember the last time he'd made her do that. Her orgasm was the most intense she'd felt in years, rocking her body and draining her utterly. Her walls squeezed Vegeta so tight she thought it would hurt him, but instead he was following suit, his garbled utterance leaving hot breath on her skin as his hand left her clitoris and grabbed the other side of her waist. Using two hands to brace himself, he pounded out his last into her, his orgasm just seconds behind hers. Their rhythm slowed naturally as they both came down, panting and moaning from exertion. As the aftershocks of her orgasm pulsed dully between her thighs, she felt her legs buckle and she collapsed onto the bed. Vegeta was not far behind her, but to her relief he managed to fall by her side. 

She was soaked with sweat and and their combined juices. The wetness pooling between her thighs was soaking into the brand new linens but she didn't care in the slightest. 

"Is it over?" Vegeta asked, a sliver of anxiety audible through the haze of his love-drunk satisfaction. 

"Hmm?" she opened one eye, trying to make her brain understand words. 

"The thing, the note and everything," he asked, his tone slightly pleading. 

"Oh right, yeah, that," she arched her neck, sighing deeply. "Yeah, s'over." 

"Was it what you wanted?" 

She turned to look at him; several of the candles had gone out over the course of their love-making and his face was partially shrouded in darkness, but she could see his penetrating eyes on her, searching her face nervously. She smiled lazily. 

"Beyond every fucking expectation you beautiful goddamned beast," she smiled, and kissed him. He wrapped one strong arm around her waist.

"Good."

"Did you like it?" she asked, fighting sleep. 

"I didn't not like it," he replied evasively. 

"Would you do it again?" 

"If you wish it," was his guarded response. "However…" 

"What?" 

"You broke far too easily," he taunted her unexpectedly. "Next time perhaps I should take your role, show you how to endure."

"You fucking ass," she bit back, settling into his embrace. "I could've gone all night if I wanted to."

"If you say so." 

"Shall we try?" 

He pondered a moment. 

"No, I wouldn't enjoy that," he concluded.

"Yeah there's only so many times I can pretend to say no before you get uncomfortable." 

"It was difficult at first," he admitted after a long pause. "I was apprehensive." 

"I'm really proud of you."

He said nothing, but held her tighter. 

"I've got loads of other ideas," she yawned happily. 

"Shush, go to sleep," he ordered.

"Reams and reams of ideas…" 

"Bulma, I swear to gods-" 

"And if you liked that you're gonna love-" 

"You're pushing your luck, woman." 

She relented, chuckling gently while rubbing his arm with her finely manicured hand. 

"I'm just teasing. Thank you," she added after a pause, "for everything tonight. You don't know what this meant to me." 

"If I say the thing will you shut up and go to sleep?" 

"Gladly." 

He half sighed, half growled, and grit his teeth. 

"I love you." 

"Love you too," she smiled into her pillows. "Oh by the way, seeing as I have to sleep now - your orders - you'd better get up and blow out the candles." 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he grunted, releasing her. 

"Nope," she grinned as he pulled away in disgust. "G'night." 

His reply did not bear repeating, but it sent her into sleep with laughter on her lips. 

Fin


End file.
